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CHILDREN OF GOD 



AND 



WINGED THINGS 



CHILDREN OF GOD 



AND 



WINGED THINGS 



BY 

ANNE MOORE 




Boston 

The Four Seas Company 

192 1 



Copyright, 1921, by 
The Four Seas Company 



m\i 18 m 



The Four Seas Press 
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 



©CI.A630786 



To 
Helen Lohmann 



CONTENTS 



CHILDREN OF GOD 

Page 

I Saw a Little Boy Once 13 

A Child 14 

She Sat at My Feet 16 

He Looked at Me 17 

I Bore Him and I Reared Him 18 

An Oath, A Shriek 20 

I Watched the Child 21 

He Was Just a Little Boy 2.2 

A Storm Coming 25 

A Child at a Water Cooler o.y 

A Dull Flush Crept Over Her Brow ... 28 

Two Lads 30 

A Little Boy and a Big Boy 32 

A Black Girl 34 

A Little Dog 36 

O Grown-up Person 37 

The Doctor Speaks 38 

7 



CONTENTS 

Page 

What Do They Fear 40 

I Sew Gloves 42 

It Came as a Storm 46 

She Is Only Twenty-three 48 

From the Window 50 

I Have a Little Place in the Country . . 51 

I Have Been Very III 53 

I Never Was Very Smart 57 

I Saw His Face 59 

The Subway at Six O'clock 62 

I Saw It One Day 64 

I've Been a Helpmate 66 

They Said Sharp, Cruel Things .... 69 

I Am Quite Sure 70 

Friday, Saturday, Sunday 73 

Twice 74 

They Said It Could Not Last ..... 75 

So They've Got a Woman 76 

I'm Seventy-eight 79 

She Was Old 81 

I Do Not Feel Old 82 

Spring Has Come 83 

8 



CONTENTS 

WINGED THINGS 

Page 

In the Blue Black of the Night .... 87 

Something So Nice 88 

I Laughed When the Bird Sang .... 90 

Little Yellow Bird 91 

My Jqy Bird 92 

I Never Heard that Bird Before .... 93 

The World Is Full of Sorrow 94 

Why Do I Love You 95 

Always 97 

My Garden 98 

The Years Pass 100 

I Do Not Know 102 

It Is a Beautiful World 104 

Winds of God 105 

My Son Came to Me 106 

After a Year 108 

Her Apple Tree 113 

I Met Him 115 

A Chance Word 116 

Once I Planted a Lily 117 

9 



CONTENTS 

Page 

He Came to Me Confidently 119 

Did Your Mother Call You 120 

Three Angry Wasps 121 

Last Night 122 

A Poem Was Singing Itself 123 

I Should Like to Keep This Dainty for You 124 

Sixth Avenue . . . . . . . . . . 125 



10 



CHILDREN OF GOD 

''Si j'etais Dieu, 

j'aurais pitie du coeur des hommes." 

Maeterlinck 



I Saw a Little Boy Once 

I saw a little boy once 
Whom I should like 
To see again. 

It was years and years ago in Venice, 
That I saw him cross 
Saint Mark's Square. 

He stepped so lightly, 
He lifted his foot so high. 
It seemed as if, like Pegasus, 

He might leave the ground 

And float somewhere above me 
In the sky. 

He is a man now. 
I should like to know 
What life has done to him. 

He was so gay and light-hearted. 
I should like to know 
That life has not been unkind to him. 



13 



A Child 

A child standing at a window, 

Sleepless, 

In the stillness of the night. 

Below, 

A meadow flooded with moonlight. 

On each side 

Dark pines whisper somberly, 

Their murmur 

Mingling with the wavebeat 

Of the sea 

Against the shore. 

In the meadow 
A little white calf 
Asleep. 

The child 

Awed with the stillness, 
And the vastness. 
And the beauty 
Half-understood, 
Sobbing silently. 
Stretches out his hands 
In kinship to the calf. 

Often the man 

Stands lonely in the moonlight. 

14 



Then, remembering 

The spot of whiteness 

That once meant 

The comfort of a living presence. 

He sees again 

And blesses 

The little white calf 

Asleep. 



15 



She Sat at My Feet 

She sat at my feet while I talked with her mother. 

Now and then she looked at me shyly. 

Once she patted my knee. 

When I went down the long path she followed me 

And at the gate confidingly put her hand in mine. 

"Have you a little girl at your house?" she said. 
"No. I haven't a little girl." 
"Have you a little dog?" 
"No. I haven't a dog." 
"Orakittie?" I shook my head. 
She was pathetically eager. "Haven't you any- 
thing?" 
When I did not answer she said, 
"I haven't any dog, or any kittle, or anything." 

All at once I knew how alone I was. 

And I knew she was alone too. 

My fingers tightened on hers. 

I smiled into the upturned, quivering face. 

"I have a book with pictures in it 

That I think a little girl would like to look at." 

"A book with pictures in it!" 

"See, between the trees, there is my house. 

I should like to see a little girl sitting on my floor 

With my picture book beside her." 

"You'd like to see a little girl sit there? 

Let me come tomorrow. Oh, let me come." 

So we became friends, 
The lonely little girl and I. 

i6 



He Looked at Me 

He looked at me 

With big, unsmiling eyes, 

Impassive and impersonal 

As though I were a worm upon the ground. 

I moved toward him ingratiatingly 

And smiled 

As one does at children. 

He did not move. 

I lelt apologetic 

As though I had intruded 

On his privacy. 

He stood so unblinking, imperturbable. 

Looking at me with wide-open eyes. 

Suddenly, 

I felt stripped to my soul. 

All my pettinesses. 

Futile subterfuges, 

Self-deceptions, 

Laid bare 

By a child's appraising stare. 



17 



I Bore Him and I Reared Him 

I bore him and I reared him. 

He was strong and fair and beautiful. 

Fit for work and love. 

I had seen to that. 

Before him was the joy of living. 

Then came the scourge. 

They took him from me. 

I who had been always at his side 

Had to give way to strangers. 

Today they brought him back to me. 
He had been good and patient 
At the hospital, they said. 

He must go on being good and patient 

To the end of life. 

They brought him back to me 

Crushed and broken. 

My boy I was so proud of! 

My boy I am proud of still 
Because he is brave and calm 
Now that he cannot walk, 
And will never walk again; 
Because he can face life unafraid. 
Though he cannot know as I do 
The stretch of years ahead. 
And how he will weary for all the things 
That he had meant to do. 

i8 



I am thankful for his spirit, 
Thankful that he has the courage 
To face his weakness, 
The courage that I thought 
Would mean so much 
To a strong man. 



19 



An Oath, a Shriek 

An oath, a shriek. 

A white-faced driver 

Pulling on the reins of a plunging horse. 

Under the menacing hoofs 

A child unconscious of danger. 

The terror-stricken mother 
Clasping one child to her breast. 
Holding another by the hand, 
Stands on the pavement. 

The little girl toddles on 

One sticky finger in her mouth 

A doll dragging at her side. 

The mother darts toward her 
And roughly shakes her. 
''What did you let go my skirt for? 
I thought you was right at my side." 

The trembling driver continues his way 
Muttering and swearing under his breath. 
"God, if I hadn't seen her! 
The kids walk the streets 
Like nothing couldn't hurt 'em. 
God, if I hadn't seen her!" 



20 



I Watched the Child 

I watched the child playing on the flag stones. 

She had a ball that bounced. 

When she threw it 

It struck inside the crack 

Where the stones joined. 

She caught it and hopped once, 

Just over the crack, to a spot 

Whence she could throw the ball 

Inside the next crack. 

She measured the distance with her eye. 

She did not miss once down the long street. 

I remembered my own progress to school. 

I am sure if her ball had missed once 

Hitting inside the crack. 

Or if she had once failed to catch it on its rebound, 

Or once touched her foot to the flag when she 

hopped, 
She would have missed her lesson that day, 
She would have lost her place on the honor roll. 
And she would have had to give up her seat 
At the head of her class. 



21 



He Was Just a Little Boy 

He was just a little boy when it happened. 
The company saved two dollars a week 
And he became a cripple for life. 

It was a mere matter of business. 

Why should you pay a man to do a child's job 

When you can get a child to do it? 

It was a child's job. 

He proved that when his father was ill. 

So the foreman looked at it. 

It was not the company's business to know 

That when the man was ill and could not work 

There was no money to buy food; 

It was not its business to know 

The mother's anxious fear 

That another would be taken in her husband's 

place 
And there would be no work, nor chance of 

earning, 
When he should be about again; 
Nor the courage of the boy who said, 
* 'Don't worry, mother, 
I can do my father's work 
And hold his job till he gets well." 
And, in his father's stead. 

Wheeled the heavy barrow tlirough the long day. 
Forcing, with indomitable will and nervous 

strength. 
His body's weakness to the task; 

2.2 



Nor the man's bitter shame 

When the foreman told him 

The son had done the work so well 

They preferred to keep him in the place. 

Why should they pay the man six dollars 
When they could get the boy for four? 

The man could get no work 

Though he tried in every way he knew. 

The mother went to the oyster sheds 

To earn what she could, 

While he did her task at home, 

And made his weary round 

Of daily begging for a job 

That daily was refused. 

Always at the sheds he stopped 

To wheel the barrow up the hill. 

And so save the boy. 

Until one day the foreman saw him 

And, cursing, said he'd have no loitering there. 

Then he had to stay away. 

Always the boy smiled and said, 

"Don't worry, father. 

It is good for me to work. 

Just feel my muscles. 

They are getting big and hard." 

One day his straining heart gave out. 

He fell. After days of pain 

The doctor found his injury serious and told him 

He would never walk again. 

23 



Then the foreman gave the man back his job 

At the boy's wage. 

And the company praised him 

For saving two dollars a week on the barrow. 

The company knew nothing about the child. 

But the father knew. 

And the mother knew. 

And the child lived and suffered. 



24 



A Storm Coming 

A storm coming, 
Clouds scudding, 
Trees tossing, 
Thunder crashing. 

A child, 

Dress and hair 

Blown by the wind, 

Face gleaming white 

In the dusk, 

Swaying, 

Gently at first, 

Then madly, rhythmically. 

In time to the wind. 

The child does not hear. 

Arms raised on high, 

Tossing wildly in the wind, 

She whirls 

Nearer and nearer the bluff 

Until— 

"Pifi!" 

The mother's arms encircle her roughly. 
The startled child stiffens. 
Then relaxes limply. 

25 



''Don't you hear me, Pifi?" 

"I hear the wind, Mama, 

The wmd caUing me. 

The wind says dance." 

The. mother does not know the call of the wind. 

''Mama, the beautiful wind — " 

"Pifi!" 

The child catches her breath, 
Shudders slightly. 
And says no more. 



26 



A Child at a Water Cooler 

A child at a water cooler in a crowded car 
Trying in vain to pull down the faucet, 
Now and again turning toward his mother 
Who does not move. 

A man hard-featured and collarless 

Stops behind the child. 

His face softens as he watches 

The fruitless efforts of the little fellow. 

From his pocket he takes an aluminum drinking 

cup. 
Very quietly he adjusts it. 
Then he leans tenderly over the child 
And is about to whisper in his ear 
That he will help him fill the cup, 
When the mother darts forward 
And catching the child by the arm 
Peremptorily drags him away. 

The man's hand drops to his side. 

His face grows hard again. 

He stands quiet a moment. 

Then he fills the cup and drinks slowly. 

Somehow he has acquired a dignity 
He did not have before. 



27 



A Dull Flush Crept Over Her Brow 

A dull flush crept over her brow and behind her 

ears. 
A look came into her eyes — It was like an animal 
That cannot defend itself when you are hurting it. 
It made me uncomfortable. 
If she had answered back I would have known 

what to do. 
But she sat still and looked at me. 

A little later she asked to go home. 

That gave me a chance to bluster. 

I said she could not go 

Until she had done the Arithmetic lesson. 

She was too big a girl to come to school day after 

day 
And go to sleep over her books. She said, 
'1 reckon I can't stay today," and left the room. 

Of course I had to see her folks. 

I could not have a girl in school who disobeyed. 

That was how I came to find out about her. 

I hope I shall alw^ays remember the lesson I 

learned. 
Find out first. Talk afterv/ards if yoil must. 

It was four miles to her home. 

She walked it twice a day. I had not troubled 

before 
To find out where she lived nor what the place 

was like. 

28 



Her mother was in bed incurably sick. 

She was the oldest of six and just fifteen. 

In the morning she was up at some unearthly 

hour 
To fix breakfast for her father and get him off to 

work. 
Then she had to get the other children off to 

school 
And make her mother comfortable before she 

went herself. 
In the afternoon she washed and ironed and 

cleaned. 
No wonder she had no time at home for lessons 
And was too sleepy to do much in school. 
"Why didn't you tell me how things were?" I 

asked. 
**I reckoned you knew," she said. 

I would have known if I had been on my job 
As she had been on hers. 
And I would have managed to help her. 
Anyway I would have found something 
Better to do than scold. 



29 



Two Lads 

Two lads swinging by straps in a crowded car. 

One with flushed cheeks and troubled eyes, 

The other cold and white 

His lips curling to conceal a hurt. 

The first pleading, 

**I didn't know you was going to take it like that. 

I didn't mean it the way you took it. 

I thought we was friends. 

You said we was friends for always. 

Don't look that way. 

It makes me feel — 

You don't need me. 

But I need you. 

Oh, what can I say? 

I thought you'd understand — 

We being friends — " 

Dear lad, don't you know how hard it is sometimes 

For a friend to understand? 

We count on friendship for understanding 

And it fails when we need it most. 

We're so frail that we look for frailty 

And do not give the benefit of the doubt. 

Be patient. Someday, perhaps, 

Your friend will understand 

How the foreman gave an order and you obeyed 

Not knowing it would work him harm. 

Then things will be as before. 

30 



No, not quite. 

Things never are quite the same 
After a bitter misunderstanding. 
Sometimes they are better. 
Sometimes — there is a wound 
That never heals. 



31 



A Little Boy and a Big Boy 

A little boy, and a big boy. 

One white, the other black. 

Working together, playing together. 

Fishing, swimming, singing together. 

Always singing together. 

Their voices rising and falling 

In the plaintive chant 

Of a negro folksong, 

The childish treble sustaining the melody, 

The black boy's resonant tenor. 

Like the trill of a mocking bird. 

Playing around it. 

Friends, 

Gentle, tender, considerate, understanding, 

Both giving, both taking. 

The black boy giving devotion and service. 

Accepting with pride the gentle 

But masterful leadership of the white child. 

Who never forgets that service. 

To be accepted with honor. 

Must be born of love. 

Then, one day. 

The child's voice silent. 

The big boy alone, 

Missing his guiding star, 

Feeling a want 

That never while he lives, 

In spite of love of woman 

32 



And children born of that love, 
Is filled. 

Remembering always, with tenderness, 

The little white boy 

Who found him hungry and fed him. 

Fed his body with bread, 

His spirit with love, 

And made visible a beauty of soul 

That, without his friendship, 

Would have been forever hidden. 



\ 



33 



A Black Girl 

A black girl walking up and down, 

Up and down ceaselessly. 

In her arms a baby 

Pressed against her breast. 

Her low voice crooning. 

The child sick unto death 

Now and again weakly wailing. 

The girl, sorrowing: 

"Can't you res', little baby? 

Becky's holding you. 

Can't you feel her arms about you? 

What is it's hurting you? 

Becky'd stop it if she could. 

There, there, little baby, 

Don't you cry. 

Becky won't put you down. 

She'll hold you. 

She knows you want your mammy. 

But she ain't here, little baby. 

God knows if you was mine, 

I wouldn't 'a lef you today. 

But maybe she ain't know 

How sick you is. 

Maybe— Oh, God! 

If somebody'd come." 

The child lies stiff in her arms. 
Not all her tenderness. 
Not all her devotion 
Could stay death. 

34 



The mother, returnhig, 

Reads in her face what has happened. 

Distracted because she did not know 

Her child was near to death, 

She blames the girl. 

The universe, eveiybody. 

The black girl saw the baby suffered. 
And felt his need of her, ] 
So she put her arms about him 
And kept them there 
Till the need passed. 

To the grief-stricken mother 

She says only, 

**I done the bes' I could 

To keep him for you. 

I done the bes' I could." 



35 



A Little Dog 

A little dog came to me crying with pain. 
He did not know what hurt him, nor why. 
He did not know me. But he came 
Believing me his friend. 
He rubbed against my hand 
Crying pitifully. 

little dog, 

1 would there were healing in my hands. 
I would touch you 

And take the pain away. 

There have been human beings 
Who have come in the same way. 
Sometimes I have been able to help them. 
More often I have failed. 
But they understand. 

You come as we go to God, 

Trusting in his power. 

To fail you, little dog. 

Is to break faith. 

So it grieves me to "do no more 

Than speak softly to you 

And touch you gently. 

Does that help you, little dog? 



36 



O Grown-up Person 

O Grown-up Person 
With the wistful eyes 
And the changing mouth 
That quivers and droops 
In the midst of a smile, 

O Grown-up Person 

With the heart of a child, 

Are you afraid of some terrible thing 

In the big dark room 

Where you stand at the door? 

When your lip trembles so, 
Are you afraid that a big, black bear 
Will come upon you, unaware, 
Standing there? 

Are you afraid of Life? 
Or Death? 
O Grown-up Person 
With the heart of a child. 



37 



The Doctor Speaks 

The doctor. [Speaks.] You're tired, Sister. 
Please rest. 

The sister. [Speaks.] She should wake soon. 
The doctor. Let me take your place. I should 
like to be here when she comes back to con- 
sciousness. 

[The sister leaves. The doctor sits watching 

the girl who presently opens her eyes and 

speaks,] 
She. I didn't know I'd be lying in a bed. I 
thought — I don't know exactly what I thought, 
only — You look like any man that's kind and 
good. I'm glad of that. [She sighs.] I'm tired, 
I thought — Oh, I thought — 
He. Child, why did you do it? 
She. It doesn't matter, does it? 
He. Here, drink this." [She drinks.] 
She. It tastes just the way I thought things 
would taste here. 

He. Drink it all. It will make you stronger. 
She. I thought I would be strong as soon as I 
got here. 

He. I had hard work to save you. 
She. Did they want to send me to hell? 
He. If I had not been there — 
She. They would have tried to? 
He. You almost killed yourself. 
She. Almok! 
He. I brought you here. 
She. Almost! I thought — What is this place? 

38 



He. Saint Joseph's Hospital. 

She. And you! Wlio are you? 

He. I am Doctor Scott. 

She. Doctor Scott. I tliought — you — If you had 

been God — you would have had pity. 

He. Why did you do it, child? 

She. I don't know. Perhaps — because — Were 

you ever hungry all the time? 



39 



What Do They Fear 

What do they fear 

All these souls 

Behind these frightened eyes? 

It is when you catch them unaware 
That you see it. 

The rest of the face shows nothing. 
It is schooled to show nothing 
That is intimate or personal. 

The eyes cannot be schooled. 
When one is off one's guard 
They show everything. 

You can look through them into the soul. 
If you look long and deep enough 
You see Fear. 

What do they fear, all these souls? 
Death? Punishment for sin? 

Hunger. 

They fear they may not have 
For themselves, or for those they love, 
Things they must have to preserve life. 
Primitive things like food and clothing, 
Things men fight each other for, 
Sometimes die for. 

40 



And those who fear not material need? 
What of them? 

Before them too is hunger, 
The eternal menace of hunger. 



41 



I Sew Gloves 

I sew gloves because there ain't nothing else I can 

do. 
It just keeps me from starving. 
Sometimes I think I'd rather starve than sew 

another pair. 
Then I look at him and keep on. 
I could easy starve myself 
But I can't starve him. 

Yet, down in his soul, Fm pretty sure 

He feels the same as I do 

And keeps up because of me. 

It's curious, ain't it, what human beings vvdll do 

When they set store by each other? 

They go on hiding, or thinking they're hiding, 

And you can't let on you know, 

When you see as plain as day. 

I wonder if he knows how I feel. 

The same as I do him, 

And thinks he's hiding for my sake 

As I do for his. I never thought before. 

Maybe — Men ain't as keen as women. 

I hope — he don't. 

Time was when things was well with us. 
But that was before he hurt his back. 
When he had his job. I can see it pains him. 
But he says he's used to it and don't mind. 
He's good and patient about helping me. 
God knows what I'd do if he was like some. 

42 



He sits by me and turns the fingers 

As fast as I can sew 'em. 

If he didn't I couldn't do more'n half I do. 

Yes, I get all I can do. 

Most always the boss gives you a little less 

So's he can keep you coming and have you 

When the rush comes on. 

But I ain't like the woman across the street. 

She calls him the good, kind boss when he gives 

her work. 
He ain't giving it to her, and he ain't giving it to 

me 
Because he's good and kind. He gives it to me 
Because he knows I'm the best hand he's got. 
He knows which side his bread is buttered on 
And he keeps the buttered side to himself. 
It's the other side I get. 

He don't fool me none since the day 

He done me out of what was rightful mine. 

I told him straight what he was, 

But I didn't get my pay. 

It was a rush order he gave me, 

Saturday noon ten dozen pair. 

He wanted 'em first thing Monday morning. 

The best anyone can do is three dozen pair a day. 

But I worked straight through. 

Just slept an hour or two Saturday and Sunday 

nights 
And my man sat by me helping. 
I got 'em to him when I said I would. 

43 



He said he'd pay me straight the price, 

That was two dollars, 

And he'd give me extra fifty cents 

If I got 'em through on time. 

Two fifty would just buy the shoes I needed. 

When I finished I was too dead beat 

To take 'em back myself and John took 'em. 

He looked 'em over one by one 

And couldn't find no fault. 

Then he turned to his money box 

And handed John one dollar and eighty cents. 

John said I was expecting more, 

That I'd told him to bring back two dollars and a 

half. 
He laughed and said, "Do you think I'm a fool? 
Two dollars and fifty cents for less than two day's 

work? 
If she can do 'em fast as that I'm paying too 

much. 
I'll cut the price. One eighty is all she gets." 
And me sitting there seeing nothing but gloves 
Wherever I looked. 

Was you ever like that? 

II: was worse that time than it had ever been. 

It sort of started me off. 

Now it's most always like that. 

At the end of the day I just see gloves. 

That tree there that's spreading out its bare 

branches. 
There are five of 'em, five fingers. Do you see 

the thumb? 

44 



That short thick branch that's folded in across 

the trunk? 
The trunk's the hand. 

Look at that mud puddle, how the water's run. 
It's like a mit. Just the thumb is separate from 

the rest. 

I didn't get my shoes, and my rfoot was on the 

ground. 
I had to go on for another week tying 'em on. 
Since then I ain't worked nights later than twelve 

o'clock. 
I can just make what we've got to have 
If I start at eight and work straight through till 

midnight. 
That little patch of road and that tree 
Is all I see of out of doors. 
John goes back and forth for me. 
I can't take the time. 

God, I wonder how long it's going to last. 



45 



It Came as a Storm 

It came as a storm does. 
A few sharp, rattling taps, 
Then more and more, 
Slowly at first, 
Then faster and faster. 
Louder and louder, 
Thousands upon thousands. 
Until separate sounds 
Are lost in a roar 
Ominous, menacing, fearful. 

I sit up in bed 

Not knowing what catastrophe 

May be upon me. 

The clock strikes six. 
I know what it is. 

The feet of the workers 
Upon the pavement 
Moving towards the mills, 
Their day begun. 

I think of yesterday. 

The day before, all the days 

When I have heard the feet passing. 

And I wonder 

When workers will awake, 

When they will learn 

46 



That life means more than work, 
When they will demand 
Time to live. 

In that day 

I shall not hear the feet 

Passing to the mills at six o'clock. 

The deluge will be upon us. 



47 



She is Only Twenty-three 

She is only twenty-three. 
And she has been through all 
A woman can go through 
And live. 

She has not been 

What the neighbors call good. 

They say she suffers for her sins. 

Yet she still takes pleasure 

In things as simple 

As the color of the buttons that she sews. 

I wonder if she was so very bad. 

I saw her when she was eighteen, 

Untouched by life, eager, beautiful. 

And again when she came home for a visit. 

I did not know then 

What the look in her eyes meant. 

I only knew something very terrible 

Had happened to her. 

Again I saw her when she came home for good. 

She was a wreck then, 

Cast off by the man she had married 

Because she was no longer able 

To earn money for him 

In the fashion that he willed. 

All day she sits carding buttons. 
She cannot stand nor walk alone. 
At night her father lifts her to her bed 
And in the morning to her chair again. 

48 



Yet her eyes still have laughter in them 
And in her centers family life and love. 

I went to see her yesterday. 
I like to hear the clever things she says 
And watch her rapidly moving fingers 
As she sews the buttons to their cards. 

You who carelessly break the thread 

That fastens the buttons 

Exclaiming with impatience if it catches, 

Do you know what it means 

To sew buttons on a card 

At two cents a gross? 

One's fingers must move very fast 

To make anything in a day. 

**Look/' she said, 

Holding a card for me to see, 

"Aren't they pretty?'* 

The buttons that pleased her 

Were commonplace enough, 

A blue center rimmed about with black. 

"When mother took me out yesterday 
We passed a man with buttons on his coat 
Like these. Mother, I said. 
Do you think they'll ever give me 
Such pretty buttons to sew? 

Today they gave them to me. 
Think of that." 

49 



From the Window 

From the window of the car I see 
A row of lamp posts 
Stretching one behind the other, 
The last four rising 
Where the hill begins, 
Each beautiful in its symmetry 
Suited to the needs of the street 
That it lights. 

Facing me a row of human beings 

Gnarled and bent, 

Moulded into unlovely shapes 

By hard and relentless contacts, 

Hands and feet once beautifully formed 

Twisted and misshapen, 

Minds and souls once attuned to life 

Maimed and shrunken, 

Unfitted forever 

For the joy of living. 



50 



I Have a Little Place in the Country 

I have a little place in the country. 

It is very beautiful. 

It shall be more beautiful because I have lived 

there. 
The house, half hidden in the trees, is long and 

low 
With broad, hospitable piazzas. 
There is a sloping hillside. 
At its foot, a tiny brook with lilies growing on its 

banks. 
There are birds and wild flowers and other lovely 

things. 
Enhancing, preserving, loving its beauty, 
I live there all alone. 

My neighbor across the way has a house and 
garden. 

She is too busy growing peas and beans and use- 
ful things 

To think of beauty. 

There is always someone with her, 

A work-worn mother with an ailing baby, 

A child recovering from fever. 

Last summer she had a waif from Hell's Kitchen. 

She made a human being of him. 

Now she has a child from the East Side with 
tuberculosis. 

The house is ramshackle. 

The roof leaks and the barn needs paint. 

Piles of unsightly boards lie outside the door. 

51 



Weeds are growing high in the path. 
Often the babies cry. 

Dear Lord, it makes me sick at heart. 
T mean my way of hving, not hers. 



52 



I Have Been Very III 

I have been very ill. 

Now I must reckon the cost. 

The bills are all here, 

The doctor, the hospital, the nurse, 

And little extra things. 

One hundred and fifty dollars they come to. 

Fifty dollars more than I have. 

That means I must go on 

As I've been doing. 

I wonder if I can go on. 

I've worked so hard. 

Night as well as day, 

To get a little ahead. 

I was looking forward to a rest. 

I won my goal, 

One hundred dollars in the bank 

Against the rainy day. 

There's my book that shows, 

My book I was so proud of adding to 

Each week. 

I thought 

When I have one hundred dollars 

I can stop the extra work. 

But I can't stop. 

I've to pay. 

I must go on and on as I did 

Before the pain racked me. 

53 



The pain's gone. 
I'm glad it's gone. 
But there's the weakness. 
I must reckon with that. 
That will keep me back 
From earning so much. 

One hundred and fifty dollars! 
Oh, my God! 

If I had not worked so hard, 

If I had not strained so 

To put aside that hundred dollars. 

Perhaps I would not have had the pain. 

That's the worst, 

To think that it was all wasted. 

All those hours and hours of work 

When I made myself sit there 

Just because I was afraid, 

Just because I thought I would feel safer 

To have something if I should fall ill. 

My friends told me I was looking tired 

And ought to take care of myself. 

They didn't understand when I said I must go on. 

I thought I could hold out two weeks longer. 

Now I must pay. 

I wonder what it was put it in my head to do it. 

Oh, yes. I remember. 

The lady told me I should save. 

I wonder how one saves on what I get each week. 

54 



Somehow she got me afraid, 

Afraid I might get ill 

And nothing to fall back on. 

So I took to working after hours. 

Now I must go on. 

I can't stop. 

I must earn that fifty dollars. 

I spent two years putting aside a hundred. 

That means I must go on one more year. 

But I can't work so fast, nor so long now. 

How long will it take? 

How long, I wonder. 

I feel like — 

I know what I feel like. 

That frog. 

You remember the frog? 

He used to worry me somehow. 

He used always to come to me in the Arithmetic 

class. 
If a frog is in a well one hundred feet deep, 
And if he climbs up three feet every day. 
And slips back two feet every night. 
How long will it take him to get out of the well? 

I never could tell because I was always wondering 

Suppose he didn't keep it up, suppose — 

Suppose one night he lost his hold 

And slipped back into the water 

And went down a hole, 

And the hole was fifty feet deep. 

How long would it take him to get out then? 

55 



Do you suppose he could climb as fast as he did 

before? 
Suppose — suppose — 
Suppose the next time he gets nearly out he falls 

again — 
When — when — do you suppose — 
Oh, my God ! 
When will the end come? 



56 



I Never Was Very Smart 

I never was very smart. 
My father told me I wasn't smart 
And I musn't ever do anything important by my- 
self. 
But somehow — 
I don't know how it happened. 
It seemed all right. 
But he's got the field, 
And I haven't anything. 
He talked fair 

And I thought he was telling me true. 
But somehow it don't seem natural 
For me not to have that field. 
It was my father's, 
And his father's before mine. 
But yesterday he came and said it was his. 
He ordered me off. 
And when I said I didn't want to go 
He said he'd have me arrested for trespassing 
And I'd be sent to jail. 
Somehow it don't seem just right. 
Of course I know the horse was his. ' 

But it seems like 

There ought to be some other way to pay him 
Besides his taking my field. 
I needed a horse to till the field with. 
He said he had one he wasn't using. 
He said I could take it 

And pay him a hundred dollars when the crop sold, 
All I had to do was to put my name to the paper 

57 



And it would be all right. 

Of course he didn't know the horse was going to 
die. 

But it died that night. 

He came the next day 

And said the horse dying made everything dif- 
ferent 

And I would have to pay the money right off. 

I told him I didn't have it. 

He said it didn't make any difference, 

And he spoke real fair. 

He said I could put my name to another paper, 

A deed, he called it. 

And it would be all right. 

I did it arid I thought he was real kind. 

Then the next day he came 

And said the field was his, 

That that was what the paper said, 

And I couldn't take it back 

Because he had sent it to the courthouse. 

Somehow it don't seem just right for him to take 
the field 

And the horse sick so it died. 

But I don't understand very Vv^elL 

He spoke so fair. 

I'm not very smart. 

I wouldn't have done it to him. 



58 



I Saw His Face 

I saw his face when he came down the mountain. 
It frightened me. It was so white and liurt. 
I wallved with him a while tliinking to help him. 
But when he could trust himself to tell me 
What had happened I knew it was beyond me. 

He had been saving for a long time 

To buy a little piece of land. 

He had found it one day 

When he \vas roaming over the mountain 

And it had taken his fancy. 

He was always a dreamer. 

He couldn't plough it, 

Nor raise anything on it, 

Nor live there. 

He just wanted to keep it always the way it was 

So he could go to it and look out from it. 

He had gone up with the money in his hand. 
The folks that hved there were glad of a chance 

to sell. 
They wanted to get away and they had told him 

they would go 
Whenever he could pay the price. 
It was what they did that broke his heart. 
What they did just for a sort of present 
Over and above what he was paying for. 

When he was telling me about the place 
His face \vas beautiful. 

59 



It was ^ay up on the mountainside. 

If you lifted your eyes 

You could look off across the hills 

To the end of the world. 

If you looked down you could see 

A little lake that reflected 

The hills and the trees on its shore. 

Just at the top of the rise 

Were two tall pine trees. 

He set store by those trees. 

When he first came to the place 

He stopped just behind them 

And when he looked up he said 

It was like seeing Kingdom Come 

Through God's picture frame. 

That day when he got to the top of the rise 

He said it was as if something had happened to 

his eyes. 
He didn't know what it was at first. 
Then the man, smiling happy-like, came toward 

him and said, 
"I got 'em down today. 
I been meaning to do it this long time 
But I ain't got around to it before. 
It didn't seem just right to leave 'em 
When you was coming. 
They was so in the way." 

Then he knew the trees were gone. 

And he turned and came down the mountain. 

60 



I tried to say the right thing to him, 

But no words would come. 

It didn't matter. He had forgotten me. 

He stood there white and still, 

His big eyes seeing nothing but his trees. 

His lips just moving so I could hardly hear. 

Over and over he was saying, 

"My trees are gone, 

My beautiful trees. 

They cut my trees." 

All at once he threw back his head. 
And, in his impotence, 
He arraigned God. 

"Why did you make it beautiful. 
And not give them eyes to see? 
Why did you give them power to destroy. 
And not give them eyes to see?" 



6i 



The Subway at Six O'clock 

The subway at six o'clock on a warm afternoon. 
Electric fans, whirring accompaniment to grind- 
ing wheels, 
Stir air that reeks with varied odors. 

A man hides behind a newspaper 
Trying to seem unconscious 
That he is occupying two seats 
While women are standing. 

A woman yields her seat 
To another woman carrying a baby 
And gets her toes stepped on 
For her pains. 

Pour girls in a row vacuously chew gum, 
Each in a special rhythm 
Suited to the lubrication 
Of an embryonic brain. 

A. girl absorbed in a thriller enters. 
Too short to reach the hard, white handle, 
She braces herself against a man 
Forgetful of the feather on her hat 
That sticks in his eyes and tickles his nose 
When the car lurches. 

The man smiles tolerantly at her oblivion, 
And, wishing he could care as much about 

62 



A yellow haired princess and a lover's peril, 
Holds firm. 

His smiling courtesy amuses the rest of us 
And makes tolerable an otherwise 
Tedious and harassing journey. 



63 



I Saw It One Day 

I saw it one day last spring in an Atlantic Port. 

I can not forget it. 

From the deck of a slowly moving ferry boat, 

In the quiet of Sunday afternoon 

When the busy-ness of men is for the most part 
laid aside, 

I watched idly. 

The docks were full of ships 

Ready for their perilous journey overseas. 

One floated lightly on the water like a gigantic 
bird 

With strange markings on its back and sides 

Resting from flight. 

Another reared its head proudly 

As though its brilliant color patches 

Set it in a class apart. 

Yet another, rainbow-hued, strained at its moor- 
ings. 

As though it knew it would reach its goal 

And pass unobserved at dawn 

In the irridescent Mediterranean. 

Then came one the like of which I had not seen 
before. 

A heavy line of brown followed the outline of a 
dull grey hull. 

Above this, a thin line of white, 

Above, another line of brown. 

Then grey, dull grey. 

I wondered how this Camouflage could serve. 

Then, my vision sharpened, I saw the white line 

64 



Was made of human faces ; 

The lines of brown, of soldier khaki. 

The ship was waiting for the dark to come. 

The men were standing in the stinging cold 

Motionless and silent, 

Through the long hours looking upon home 

As a man looks for the last time upon the face of 

his beloved. 
As though standing so would keep the veil from 

falling 
And hold before their vision that most dear thing 
That each one wishes to keep mitil the end. 
I saw it and I can not forget it. 
The faces of men about to sail for battle 
Turned toward home. 



6s 



I've Been a Helpmate 

I've been a helpmate to him. 

I've scrimped and saved. 

And now, I reckon I'm done. 

I ain't blaming him. It ain't that. 

He's done his best. 

But somehow we ain't had no luck. 

I reckon I'll go on helping him same as before, 

Only I'm going to spend and spend. 

I'm going to get some comfort out of life before I 

die. 
I'm going to begin 

Just as soon as I've a hundred dollars ahead 
Against the children's being sick. 

Maybe you think I'm foolish. 

I'm tired, dog-tired. 

I've worked just like a horse day in and day out. 

And what have I got to show for it? 

Nothing, just nothing. 

Not any more than if I had taken my ease. 

Only if I had, and things had gone wrong. 

He'd have been sore, and he'd have blamed me. 

He wouldn't have known they'd have been that 

way anyway. 
Any more than I knew before we began. 

Twice now it's happened. 
I got ahead once eight hundred dollars 
Just by saving and managing, 
And once a thousand dollars. 

66 



Twice it's got eat up, 
Us trying to get ahead. 

I was up before it was light 

Getting his breakfast and the men's and redding 

the house, 
Then out in the fields same as the horses 
Ploughing and hoeing. 
Then in, getting his dinner and the men's, 
Then out hoeing, and ploughing and raking, 
I was going to say like the horses. 
But it wa'n't like the horses. 
They have their rest to keep 'em fit. 
It was like a woman that ain't got time to rest. 
After the horses stopped 
I got supper for him and the men. 
When the men were in bed asleep 
I was redding and making the children's clothes 
And doing the washing. 

After all, the crops failed. 

And what we had didn't bring nothing. 

Thirty cents a hundred they paid us for corn. 

The people that ate it paid just ten times that for 

it. 
Somebody got the money. I don't know who. 
We couldn't pay the mortgage. 
And they took the farm. 
We was just where we was before. 

It ain't that I blame him. 
He worked and done his best. 

67 



And it was hard on him, 
Him counting so on making out. 
Only I'm tired, dog-tired. 
And it happened twice. 

I'm going to take some comfort now. 

He's got a job 

And we're going to use the money coming in. 

I'm going to begin 

As soon as I've a hundred by 

Against tlie children's being sick. 

I'll begin then 

And I'll spend and spend. 



68 



They Said Sharp, Cruel Things 

They said sharp, cruel things about me. 
They made evil prophecies. 
My eyes danced. 
My laugh rang out. 

They could not bear to see a woman 
Take her life in her own hands 
And be happy. 

The world is so full of unhappiness, 

It needs joy so much, 

Why should they try to kill happiness? 

They could not kill mine! 
I took what love offered. 
I am happy for all time. 

No matter what comes 

My heart will sing. 

And I hold my head high. 



69 



I Am Quite Sure 

I am quite sure Mrs. Shultz loved the girl. 
I am quite sure she meant to be kind. 
She said to me, 

'Tm glad she's coming here 

So I can take care of her. 

She's Richard's niece, you know. 

I'd do anything for anybody 

That belongs to Richard. 

The doctor says it's the Tuber-closis she's got. 

I know about that. 

It's in Richard's family. 

I've seen three of his sisters die of it. 

The doctor says she's got a chance up here 

Where the air is good 

And she can get good food. 

I'm going to give her plenty of eggs 

And milk, and good fresh butter. 

I'll do the best I can for her 

Just as I did for Richard's sisters." 

After a time I saw Mrs. Shultz again. 
She did not look happy. 
I asked if Ettie were better. 
She said, 

"She's gone back to the city 
Where there ain't a living chance for her. 
I did my best. 

But I couldn't keep her from going. 

70 



She said she was going to die 

And she wanted to die in the city 

Where her father is 

And her brothers and sisters. 

It's enough to kill her 

Sleeping the way she does 

Out on the fire escape 

In the foul, night air. 

Here she had a nice, soft bed. 

And a room all to herself. 

"You wouldn't believe 

How headstrong she was. 

Once she got the notion to go 

Nothing could keep her. 

It was just so about the window 

Once she made up her mind 

To have it open. 

*1 did my duty by her, I know that. 
It wasn't easy either. 

*'I didn't go to sleep a single night 

Until I was sure about her window. 

I told her she must keep it shut. 

She could get all the air she needed in the daytime. 

Night air is bad for the Tuber-closis. 

I found that out when I was nursing Richard's 

sisters. 
But would you believe it? 

After I had tucked her in and had gone to bed 
She'd get up and open it, softly, 

71 



Just an inch at a time 

So I shouldn't hear. 

But I did, and I went again and shut it. 

At last, when I found I couldn't trust her, 

I went with a hammer 

And I nailed it shut. 

She said it sounded like I was nailing her coffin. 

It shouldn't be said I neglected Richard's niece 

And didn't treat her like one of my own. 

"I did my best. I know that. 

But she didn't get better. 

She seemed to pine for something. 

She said she was disappointed. 

I could see she had expected 

To get better right off up here. 

Well, there wasn't any keeping her. 

So Richard took her to the station last week. 

"Today I got a letter. 

It says there isn't any hope. 

I just can't bear to think that Ettie — 

"Well, I did my duty." 



72 



Friday, Saturday, Sunday 

Friday, Saturday, Sunday, 
Three whole days of freedom 
From the crashing noise 
And racking contacts 
Of the city. 

I lift my eyes to the long, low-lying hills, 

The smell of warm, moist earth comes to me. 

I feel wind cool on my cheek 

And warm sun. 

I remember they call this day 

Good Friday. 

I shut my eyes. 

I see the church 

With its kneeling throng 

And its purple altar cloths. 

I hear the sad, Gregorian music. 

I wonder why they call this Friday good. 

Yet, 

Because so many years ago 

Men killed the God-man, 

I am free today 

To wander through the fields 

Praising God in my own way. 



73 



Twice 

Twice I took my life into my own hands, 
Once for Art. 
Once for Love. 
Then again twice. 

Fom^ times God said, 
"Your hfe is mine. 
You shall do with it 
What I decree." 

Music called me. 

I turned my back upon my appointed task 

To follow the call. 

God took my voice. 

Then my Love came. 
I left all 
To be with him. 
God took my Love. 

Twice I said, 
'*If I may not live 
The life I wish, 
I will not live." 

Even when I sought to die 
God interfered. 
Yet men say 
That we are free. 



74 



They Said it Could Not Last 

They said it could not last. 

Deep in my heart I knew they were right. 

It was too perfect to last. 

Today I am facing it. 

When I saw him look at her this morning 

I knew it w^as the end. 

I called him to me. 

I took his hands in mine 

And smiled into his eyes. 

"She loves you," I said. '*Go to her." 
I could do it because I love him so, 
Because the happiness he has given me has been 
so great. 

I did not tell him that next my heart 

I bore his crowning gift to me. 

I could not hold him by such means. 

Some day my son will understand. 

He will be glad his mother made his father happy 

In the only way she could. 



75 



So They've Got a Woman 

So they've got a woman, have they, at the cros- 
sing, flagging trains? 

And she's been there for a week, has she, every 
day 

Prom sun-up to sun-down without going home to 
rest 

Even when it drizzled rain? 

And they're telling her they think she's fine 

To stick so on the job, are they? 

Well, I don't grudge her nothing, only— 
They're doing it so she'll want to stay. 
I know that much. 
They want to keep her on the job 
Now the men are going to war. 
That's what they want. 

It all depends on what they want, 

What they tell you when you work for 'em, 

Especially when you're a woman and can't help 

yourself. 
It ain't how you do the work. That ain't what 

counts. 
It's what they want. 

What did they tell me when I flagged the trains? 
Yes. I flagged trains for 'em one whole year. 
What did they tell me when they found it out? 
That I'd done it well? 
They told me I'd no right to the job 
And would have to go. 

76 



I'd like to know who had a better right 

When I'd done it a whole year and no fault found. 

It was night and cold when I began. 

It was my man's job, 

All that stood between us and this poor-farm 

Where I am at last. 

One day he came home sick. 

All day I tended him hoping he'd get better, 

But the pain racked him when he tried to move, 

And when it came on night he fretted 

For fear the trains would come to harm 

Or somebody would get hurt. 

He'd been always faithful 

And they depended on his being there. 

I told him not to worry. I would take his place. 

I put his clothes on, took his lantern 

And went down the hill to the place where the 

tracks cross. 
I stayed the night through. 
The next night I went again and the next. 
He grew easier in his mind, knowing the work 

was done 
And the pay would come as usual. 
Daytimes I tended him and the track at night 
Prom sun-down to sun-up for a year. 
I came to love the track 
And the stars that shine so clear. 
At last he died. 

All I wanted then was to stay on 

In the old house where we'd lived so long 

77 



And flag the trains as Fd been doing. 

But they found out he was dead. 

They came and said they'd put some one in his 

place. 
I told them how I'd flagged the trains 
All the while that he was sick 
And begged to stay. 
A cousin of an engineer wanted a job. 
They told me tending track was man's work. 
A woman couldn't do it. 
Couldn't do what I'd been doing without fault for 

a year. 
They turned me off. 

They didn't want a woman on the job — then. 
That's why I'm here, at the poor-farm, 
Why I know. 



78 



I'm Seventy-eight 

I'm seventy-eight 

But I can hold my own, I guess, 

With the best. 

I've clone a day's work today. 

I got my breakfast and my dinner, 

I filed my kitchen and my room. 

You can't find a speck of dust so big if you looked. 

I hoed three rows, long rows they was, and plant- 
ed beans. 

Then I sewed my waist where it was ripped, 
washed myself. 

And dressed and made three pastoral calls. 

Then I came up here. That's a good mile and a 
half I guess. 

Now I'm going back. 

I'll get my supper and go straight to bed, I think. 

I've earned my rest tonight. 

But goodness me! That ain't nothing to what I 

used to do. 
I ain't never been one to hold my hands. 
I was eighteen when he married me 
And brought me to the farm. 
I did my part for fifty years. 
I wasn't never one to have a girl around. 
I used to laugh and tell him that when I married 

him 

79 



It was the same as marrying three, 

What with him, and his uncle that lived with us, 

And the hired man. 

I was broke in young, I guess. 

That's why I'm what I am, at seventy-eight. 



80 



She Was Old 

She was old when I knew her, and she looked at 

hfe 
From the vantage point of the years she had lived. 
We told her things we told no other. 
Always she gave us help and always we wondered 
At her sympathy and her tolerance. 

One day I miderstood. 

I brought for comfort one 

Whom bitter tongues had made to suffer. 

My friend held out her hand. 

**Were you happy, my dear? 

Then don't regret. 

You were wise to take the gift life offered." 

Then, seeing wonder in our eyes, she said, 

"It is because I have not had 

That I see so clearly what it means 

That you have had. 

Once love came to me. 

I was afraid. 

That is my regret. 

I was not brave enough 

To take it when it came." 



8( 



I Do Not Feel Old 

I do not feel old. 

I know I am not as straight as I was, 

And my hand trembles a little, 

Not very much, just a little, 

When at table I try to pass 

A glass of water 

Or a cup of coffee. 

I can't walk so far, 

Nor so fast, as I did. 

And they say my hair is white. 

I suppose it is. 

I hadn't noticed, I've been so busy. 

But does it matter? 

My work's as good as it was. 

I know my work's as good. 

They say I'm old. 

Maybe I am. 

But I'm just learning 

What things mean. 

I've just reached the place 

I've been aiming for. 

I don't hear quite as well as I did. 
But my work^ — 
I love my work. 

God, you won't let them take it from me ! 

I'm just learning 
What it means. 

82 



Spring Has Come 

Spring has come. 

I know because today 

Old Andy came in 

With his hands full of railway guides. 

It's his way. 

When the first warm days come 

His blood stirs. 

I can tell by the way 

He walks to the window and looks out. 

Yesterday he stood there for a long time, 

His poor, frayed coat pressed against the glass. 

His arms resting on the lowered sash, 

Oblivious of everything 

Except a tree-top far below. 

And a twittering bird. 

Today he brought the guides. 

He sat for a long time 

Turning over the pages 

And looking at the pictures. 

Then he said, 

"They get these things up nicely, don't they? 

Look at that. 

That would be a good place to spend the sum- 
mer." 

He held out a woodcut of a log hut in the Adiron- 
dacks. 

83 



"Fine, Andy," I said. 

"When do you expect to go?" 

"Oh, — I don't really mean to go, sir. 

I never leave the city. 

There's the sick wife. 

And — " His voice trailed off. 

For a moment he seemed old. 

Then his eyes brightened 

As a child's 

When he sees roseate things. 

"I went once when I was a boy. 

I spent a whole summer in a place like that. 

I just get these things, sir. 

I like to put a picture up where I can see it 

And think, it takes only so long to get there. 

And think — " 

He opened his ledger. 
The rest was swallowed up 
In his rapid count, 
"2, 5, 7, 29, 81—" 



84 



WINGED THINGS 

'Si mes Vers avaient des Ailes." 

Victor Hugo 



In the Blue Black of the Night 

In the blue black of the night 

I saw a pine tree. 

In its arms rested a star. 

As I looked, the star stirred 
And moved from its resting place 
Until it hung far above the tree. 

The tree stood calm and straight 
With its comforting arms stretched out 

Waiting for the star to come again, 
As it would, the next night and the next. 



87 



Something So Nice 

Something so nice happened today. 
A nttle bird 
Came to visit me. 

He was a Httle bird 

Who likes to sit 

On the tips of things. 

He sat on the topmost tip 
Of my little cedar tree 
And he sang to me. 

He sang so loud 

And his song was so sweet 

That I came to see. 

There he was against the sky 
Singing his heart out 
To the world and me. 

He was bhie, blue, blue. 
Just below was larkspur 
Blue, blue, blue. 

There was a tiny, white cloud 
In a sky 
Of blue. 



A soft, soft wind 

Swayed the tip of the tree. 

There, in the golden morning light, 

Careless and gay and free, 

A little bird 

Gave of his joy to me. 



89 



I Laughed When the Bird Sang 

I laughed when the bird sang. 
Oh, my dear! 

For he sang the song 
My heart was singing. 
I love you, dear. 

You heard and smiled. 
Oh, my dear! 

So I laughed when the bird sang 
And you heard my heart singing. 
I love you, dear. 



90 



Little Yellow Bird 

Little yellow bird, 
Did you come today 
Because it was grey and cold? 

Or did you feel 

I was sad, little bird, 

And in need of your glint of gold? 

The sun came out 
When you flashed by. 
It touched your breast 

And the golden-rod 

Where you stopped to rest. 

And it shone in my heart, little bird. 

It shines there more brightly, 

O Sunshine bird. 

Than it does in the sky above ; 

Or on your breast, 

Or the golden-rod 

Where you stopped to rest. 

The sun in my heart, 
Little bird, 
Is love. 



91 



My Joy Bird 

My Joy bird! My Tanager! 

With the glint of the sun 
On your wings and throat! 

And your vivid delight 
In the fresh, young day, 

And the cool, still leaves 
And the rain-washed air! 

You come with your eager song 
And your flaming head and breast 

To sear me, O Love bird. 
And give me rest. 



92 



I Never Heard That Bird Before 

I never heard that bird before. 
I wonder why. 

He comes every year in spring 
To sing. 

I never felt the wind so soft 
Or saw new leaves grey-green 
In spring. 
I wonder why. 

I did not know that 
Maple keys are red 
And young shoots, 
As they are in fall. 

They came with you, 
O love. 
This spring. 
Is that why? 



93 



The World is Full of Sorrow 

The world is full of sorrow. 
Life Is full of pain. 
We are blind to beauty. 
We are prone to blame. 

We are looking in our blindness 
Through the grey mist of self, 
And all things seem grey. 

You come 

With your clear vision, 
Your gift of seeing beauty. 
Your forgetfulness of self. 

You smile. 
The grey mist lifts. 
The sun shines clear. 
Joy, beauty, love. 
Seem near. 

You listen as you smile? 
Now I hear. 
Tell me 

Was it, merely, that you heard 
The clear, sweet note 
Of a singing bird? 



94 



Why Do 1 Love You 

Why do I love you? 

I love you, my dear, 

For so many things. 

And in so many ways, 

That when I try 

To tell you 

What you mean to me 

And why. 

Only trifles Ught as air 

Frame themselves in words, 

My dear. 

You smile at this. 

You sigh at that. 

So your eye-lash sweeps your cheek. 

So your color comes and goes. 

So— Oh, my dear, in you I see 

A beauty wonderful, 

A beauty rare. 

That your smile 

Or your sigh 

Just gives hint of. 

My dear. 

It's your beautiful soul 
That I love. 
I can not tell you why. 
I can only thank God 
That he brought me near 

95 



To see it 
And feel it 
And love you 
My dear. 



96 



Always 

Always, my dear, I like you 
But 

When the song of a l)ird^ 
Or the gift of a flower. 
Puts light in your eyes ; 

When the shape of a cloud, 
Or sunlight through leaves. 

The soft feel of moss. 
Or grey trunks of trees. 
Brings a smile to your lips ; 

When the smell of moist earth, 
Or wind through the grain, 
Turns you to me in friendship; 

Then, 
I like you most, my dear. 



97 



My Garden 

My garden is fair today. 

Yesterday it was choked with weeds. 

Today I knelt, and thrust my fingers 
Into the warm, brown, friable earth. 
I pulled root, stock and branch. 

My flowers spread out their leaves 
And preened themselves. 

As I knelt, sun came 

And warmed me. 

Wind swept clear my brain. 

All at once I was aware 

That from another garden fair 

I tore away weeds not pulled with hands 

And in their stead 

A flower crept, and spread 

Like the blue flame of violets. 

As the pile of tansey 
Grew at my feet 
My heart grew light. 
The air grew sweet. 

Into the garden 
Where roses blow 
Came the sun. 
Into that other garden 

98 



Which is my heart 
Came love. 

Out of my heart confessed 
I swept envies and hatreds 
And jealousies 
And thoughts of self. 

Where these are 
Love cannot rest. 



99 



The Years Pass 

The years pass, and the months, and the days. 

Each one I cling to, 

For each has a beauty of its own 

That I may not see again. 

Yesterday the sun lay upon that hill-top 
A red ball of fire. As it sank, 
Through the golden air a bird 
Winged his upward way singing. 

The day before 

A white cloud with the sun upon it 
Rested on the top of that pine tree. 
All the sky was blue about it. 

Today I found a gentian. 

Its heart a bit of the sky's own blue, 

Floating above the marsh. 

Shy, fragile, delicately fringed. 

Tomorrow! What will tomorrow bring? 
My heart leaps and is still. 
Perhaps for me tomorrow may not come. 
Or coming, vision may be dulled. 

Perhaps I may not see again 
Larkspur, flame-colored hills, 
The tracery of bare branches, 
Shadblow, or apple trees in bud. 

100 



Or seeing, 

May feel only cold, 

Or heat, or biting wind. 

So I pray. 

Spare me, O Lord, the full measure of each year 
That may be mine of vivid feeling. 
But take me quickly, God, 
When beauty no longer moves me. 



lOI 



I Do Not Know 

I do not know if in that life 

That may be mine beyond the grave, 

I shall feel beauty 

And love and peace and joy 

In the same way that I do here. 



But this I know. 
Yesterday I faced the sea. 
On one side were quiet hills half hidden 
In the haze of forest fires burning far away. 
The sun, a glowing ball, hung far above them 
Through the smoke cloud shifting red and cop- 
pery. 
Across the restless water a path blood red 
Led up to the irridescent hills. 
All was quiet save the sea 
And the sea cried to me. 



The cry of the sea 

Was the cry of my soul. 

For beyond the blood red path, 

Beyond the sea and the irridescent hills. 

Was a beauty too vast 

For my finite eyes to see. 

And deep within me was a hurt 

That beauty should be measureless 

And I so impotent that I grasp 

But its semblance, not itself. 

102 



If it is true, O Lord, 

Tliat he\e my eyes see as through a veil 

And my soul as through a glass darkly, 

If when I have passed the gates of death 

I shall have quickened power 

And shall see more deeply 

And feel more keenly, 

Do not keep me waiting. 

Let death come quickly. 



103 



It is a Beautiful World 

It is a beautiful world, O Lord, 
And this is a beautiful day. 
Quicken my soul to its depths 
That I may feel 
The beauty my eyes see. 



104 



Winds of God 

Winds of God, blow gently on me. 

Sun, warm me. 

Your caress is soft. 

And, like the touch of my Beloved, 

Brings close the heart of beauty. 

My flesh vibrates. My spirit sings. 
Today, spirit and flesh 
Form one harmonious whole. 

1 am alive. 

I am akin to all living things. 

The trees, the sky, the floating clouds, 
The great, grey rocks, the blades of grass, 
Are part of me, and I am part of them. 

O Wind and Sun, you are my brothers, 
You make me feel my nearness 
To all things great and beautiful. 

You touch my every sense. 
You heal the hurt of apathy. 



105 



My Son Came to Me 

My son came to me when I was alone 

And put his arms about me and held me close. 

It was an unwonted thmg for him to do. 

We had not been very good friends, my son and I. 

Eut he was going to the Front 

And the danger softened him, 

So he came to be a little tender with me 

Before he went. 

As he sat so close to me, 

And I so happy to have him there, 

A strange thing happened. 

His face changed. 

He took on the form and feature 

Of one whom I had loved in years gone by, 

A boy no older than himself. 

Whom lately I had seen an old man, ill and broken. 

Now there was no hint of age or illness. 

He was my fair young lover. 

I a girl by two years younger. 

As he sat there close to me. 

My head against his shoulder. 

As so often we had sat in other days, 

I knew that he was dead. 

I am glad he came to me in the old form that I 

loved, 
Glad it was through my son he came. 
Did he mean to tell me, do you think, 

1 06 



That he had loved me all these years? 

That through everything he'd kept faith and un- 
derstood? 

Did he mean to say 

"For love of you I'll stay near your son to guard 
him. 

Trust me as I have always trusted you." 

It would be like him so to comfort me. 



107 



After a Year 

After a year they meet. 
She speaks. 

"Doctors say no hope. Can not live till morning." 
That was the cable. 

Till morning! 

How long was left me? 

An hour — two — to battle for you? 

I did not know. 

"He's mine!" I said. "I will not let him go." 

I put myself beyond the reach of call 
And threw myself upon my bed. 

I did not pray. 

If anybody saved you, it should be I, 

Not some unknown God. 

Motionless I lay, hands clenched, 
Staring through wide, unseeing eyes 
Into the void. 

Then — 

I felt my soul traverse the sea 
And all the land between. 

io8 



I came into your darkened room, 
I saw your still form lying there, 
Your thin, white face. 

I cried, "I love you. Live for me." 

You stirred. I thought, 

If I could only make you hear! 

My body stiffened where it lay. You would hear 
If there is anything in human will. 
And, hearing, you would fight to live. 

Or, failing strength, ' 

You'd know what I'd kept from you 
Through the years, — 

Because of her who called you hers 

While ever hurting love, — 

And you would have a moment's joy. 

Straight into your eyes I looked and said, 
**I love you. Live for me." 

You turned your head as though you sought to 
hear. 

I knew that I must make you feel my need. 
"Live for me," I begged. "I need you. 
Live for me. I need you." 

In face of death, we two, alone, in all the world. 
*'I love you. Live for me. 
Live for me. I love you." 

109 



Through the day and through the night, 
Sometimes my lips spoke, sometimes my heart 

alone, 
"I love you. I love you. I love you." 

Then — ^you heard ! 

You smiled and whispered, 

"Child, O child." 

A light broke in my heart. 

I did not need the second cable. 

"Out of danger. Crisis past." I slept. 

When she is silent 
He speaks. 

I was so tired. 

It was a relief to know that from the stupor 

I would go quite quietly and gently out. 

They thought me too far gone to understand. 

But I heard the doctor say, 

"If he does not make some effort he can not live." 

I did not let an eyelash quiver. 

To lie there peacefully and flicker out 

Was what I wanted above all things. 

Everything was finished. 

I had given all I had to give. 

Some one would do the Nation's work. 

I would rest for all eternity. 

Rest — for all eternity. 

no 



Then — 

Something came into my mind that troubled me. 

It made my head twist from side to side 

So that I could not rest. 

There was something I must do. 



I was so tired. 
There was nothing — 
Yes, one thing. 
What was it? 
I could not lie still. 
What was it? 



Someone was trying to tell me. 

If I could stop turning and twisting 

I could hear. 

I wanted so to hear, 

To get it done, 

To rest. 



Then— 

Your voice ! 

"1 love you. Live for me. I need you." 

I heard you though you were beyond the sea. 

They told me afterwards that I smiled, 
And said, ''Child, O Child." 
I know only this. 
I lived for you. I lived for you. 

Ill 



Now that you are near me, O my Love, 

Take my hand and say it 

As you said it then, 

"I love you. I love you." 

To know is rest. 



112 



Her Apple Tree 

Her apple tree is white with bloom. 
No petal yet has fallen 
Though the other trees are bare. 
It waits for her to come. 

Last year she came in budding time, 
And, from her window, 
Saw the change from pink to white, 
And watched a blue bird, breast aglow, 
Nest-building in the branches. 

Now, no friendly face looks out. 
Her window is shuttered fast. 
Her house, bereft of soul. 
Stands lonely. 

The tree has done its best. 

Each day new buds have come 

And opened white and stayed. 

As though she yet might come to see. 

I stand beneath its fragrant loveliness 
And think of her. 

The sun goes. 

Grayness fills the air. 

The tree shivers in the rising wind. 

Petals fall upon my hair and face 
And make a carpet at my feet. 

113 



Did some one sigh? 

Is some one other than myself grieving 

To see the white perfection pass? 

I look about. I am alone. 
Yet, I am not alone. 
She has come at last. 

Do you think she used my living eyes to see? 
Or, was it through hers, 
I saw? 

Never was the tree so beautiful before. 



114 



I Met Him 

I met him when the day was hottest 
On a dusty road that stretched 
Interminably ahead. 

His wind-tossed shock of yellow hair 

Was matted with the heat, 

His blouse open at the throat 

As though he needed room to breathe, 

Across his face a streak 

Where careless hand 

Had brushed away the moisture. 

He smiled. 

It is an adventure to meet Peter 

When he smiles. 

Of a sudden, there was no dusty road. 
There were leafy woods, a trickling stream, 
Fhckering sunlight on grey trunks of trees. 
Songs of birds, and soft green moss to walk on. 

I see friendliness in his clear, brown eyes. 
Hint of depths and tendernesses. 
Of reserves and subtle understandings. 
And the mocking Ught of laughter. 

In all the world are only pleasant things 
When Peter smiles. 



115 



A Chance Word 

A chance word, 

A cruel word, 

Spoken in jest 

Yet spoken to hurt. 

Struck its mark 

And killed my joy, 

My little, evanescent joy. 

A rude hand placed 
On a butterfly's wing, 
Bruised and crushed 
The delicate thing. 

Strong and powerful one. 
Do you like to hurt 
Evanescent things 
Like butterflies' wings. 
And my little joy? 



ii6 



Once I Planted a Lily 

Once I planted a lily 

Where all who passed could see. 

I loved it and tended it 

And from it came other lilies. 



They grew straight and tall. 

And all who passed 

Stopped to marvel at their beauty. 

One day I heard voices. 
I lingered where I stood 
Until they sounded far away. 

Then I went down the path 

To the little stream 

Where they leaned their flaming heads 

Against the footbridge. 

I wished to thank them 
For their fragrance, 
And their glowing color, 
And the pleasure that they gave. 

Where they had stood 
Tall and fair, 
I found bleeding stems 
And torn petals. 

117 



Those who had come 

Were those who see in beauty 

Only something to destroy. 

Sometimes, 

It is love they touch. 



ii8 



He Came to Me Confidently 

He came to me confidently wagging his tail. 
I was thinking of something else 
And did not pat him. 

He turned away. Then he came back 

And gave my hand a dry little lick 

Just to say he was sorry he had seemed to mind. 

My hand hung inert at my side. 

He looked at me with questioning eyes. 

Then he went away. I remember now. 

I remember, now that he is not here for me to pat. 
A dog's eyes can say so much. 
I wish I had patted him that day. 



119 



Did Your Mother Call You 

Did your mother call you, little girl? 
And did you leave your playhouse 
And go at once? 

Things are scattered about 

That I know you did not wish to leave. 

Your doll there by a tree, 

Your apple and your orange. 

Your tea set and your blocks. 

Your doll's face is stained 

As though your tears had fallen on it. 

Her clothes are torn, 

And from a wound in her side 

Sawdust streams. 

Your tree-trunk table has a cover laid 

As though you meant to have a feast. 

When the call comes at the end, little girl, 
Will you leave, I wonder, 
A doll sorely wounded 
And a table set for a feast? 



120 



Three Angry Wasps 

Three angry wasps facing me, 
Their wings outspread, 
Their bodies working. 
Intense, alert 
For my next move. 

I do not make it. 

It is not worth while 

Even for the sake of a garden wall 

To brave the stings of three angry wasps. 

Their home left undisturbed 
Will grow apace. 
Many wasps will soon 
Contest the spot with me. 

I could burn them out, 

Or force them out 

With noxious smelling stuff. 

But after all they found the place 

Where I let the stones fall down, 

A niche just right for them. 

They worked hard to lay a good foundation. 

Wouldn't you fight for your home? 
Under the circumstances 
Wouldn't you feel 
That you deserved to win? 



121 



Last Night 

Last night a little mouse came 

And gnawed and gnawed. 

He made only the faintest scratching sound, 

But I could not sleep. 

A little thing like the gnawing of a mouse 
Kept me awake. 

What of the people on Third Avenue 

Who sleep, if they sleep. 

In face of the crashing elevated? 

What of the soldiers in the trenches 
Who hear always the roar of cannon 
And exploding shells? 



122 



A Poem Was Singing Itself 

A poem was singing itself in my head 
When I came upon a dead mouse that maggots 
were eating. 

The poem stopped singing. 
Afterwards I could not write it down. 

So when life seems fairest and beauty lies ahead 
Dead things are in the way. 

And feeding upon them are maggots of Pride and 

Greed 
And Jealousy and Gossip and Strife and Ambition. 



123 



I Should Like to Keep This Dainty for You 

I should like to keep this dainty for you, little 

mouse. 
It would give me pleasure to vary 
Your meagre diet so luxuriously. 
It is exactly what you like. 
I could place it attractively 
Where your inquisitive black eyes 
And your sensitive nose would find it. 

But you would not understand 
That it is only you I like, 
Your quiet little way, 
Your sleek, grey coat. 
Your dainty appetite. 

I have so much that I throw away. 
It takes so little for you to live. 
It seems a pity — 

But if I did this for you, 

With your Rooseveltian idea of the family, 

And your loyalty to other mice. 

There would be so many of you in a few weeks 

That I would have to move away 

And leave you in possession of my little house. 

I don't like you well enough for that, little mouse. 
So, here goes your titbit. 



124 



Sixth Avenue 

Sixth Avenue on a murky afternoon. 

The elevated crashes overhead. 

A flat-wheeled surface car 

Shrieks its way toward Fifty-ninth street. 

There is rain in the air and gloom. 

At Fiftieth street the conductor shouts 
"All out. Last stop.'' 

You descend to the grimy street to wait. 
Six cars come in quick succession. 
You regard each one hopefully. 

Three disgorge their freight 

At the conductor's cry ''All out!" 

Three turn off at Fifty-third street. 

Ten minutes pass and no car comes. 

You decide not to wait 

And pick your way to the sidewalk. 

Just above, passage is blocked 

By a building in process of renovation. 

Again you pick your way, 

Around piles of boards and brick and lime. 

To the street's center. 

There a boy works in a sewer. 

He sits on the rim of an open man-hole, 

Dangling feet and legs in its yawning mouth. 

125 



Beside him, filled with clear, cool water, 
Stands an old tin can 
Holding an Easter lily. 

The lily, untouched by its surroundings, 
Lifts its lovely head 
To the street's ugliness. 

The clouds part. 

Through the rift sunshine comes 

And illumines them. 

Afterwards, you remember 
The whiteness of the lily 
And the boy's face. 

So always, 

The world's sordidness, 

And the world's beauty. 



126 



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